Beloved of My Heart
by FaerieQueen3
Summary: They were a strange pair, that was first thing that many thought upon seeing them. The second, was that they were very much in love. The third, was that he would die without her, and in many ways, he did.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey ya'all :-). This is just something I thought of and wanted to put down before I lost my nerve. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it ran away from me and I ended up with this short story instead. I hope you guys enjoy it :-)._

_xoxo_

_FairieQueen3_

* * *

The first time Golden Prince met the Light of Rohan, he had been riding all day, chasing after Elrond's devil spawn who had gotten away from him. Elladan and Elrohir, in contrast to their sweet and docile sister, were terrors at only five years of age. The would pop up one minute, only an arm's length away, and then dive behind a bush or into water and disappear. Nightmares the both of them, and the reasons why Thandruil was glad to be unattached.

It was nearly twilight, and his throat was parched, having not had anything to drink since he began his pursuit of the twins early in the morning. Naturally, when he saw a clear spring of water just ahead, he dismounted, took a cup from his saddle bag, and drew water from the spring. No sooner had he brought the cup to his lips than a voice interrupted his much-needed drink.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Sir."

The elven prince rolled his eyes and turned 'round to see a human girl, a commoner. (Her threadbare dress, dirty hands, and bare feet made that evident). She couldn't have been more than fourteen. Her corn-colored hair was pulled from her face with a strap of leather and on her hip rested a wicker basket, filled to burst with berries. Her cornflower eyes looked at him disaprovingly. '_Rohirric'. _

"What is your reason for coming here, Maiden of Rohan? Don't be suprised," he added, when her eyes widened. "If the saying of the 'golden-haired Rohirrim' wasn't enough, your abhorrent accent would have sufficed." He paused and tilted his head, "Though _golden_ is perhaps an overstatement, straw is more like it."

The young girl crossed her arms and glared in offense, but answered him nonetheless. "The fruits of the land, Sir. The famine in Rohan has been harsh, only here in the forrest is food plentiful."

"Quite a journey," he acknowledged. "I was unaware that humans had the inspiration to do so without a war to sate their blood-lust."

"The journey is not so far when starvation is your inspiration." Her tone was harsh in her obvious disapproval of the prince's opinion of her kind.

_'Quick tempered thing...'_

It was then that Thandruil noticed her words were polished and clipped, not at all as a pauper's daugther would speak. "You are not so common as your atire suggestions, Maiden."

A statement, and she didn't bother to deny it. "Aye, I'm not."

He waited a moment, but when it became apparent that the answer to his unspoken inquiry concerning her station would not be forthcoming, Thandruil addressed her first sentence spoken to him. "What business is it of yours from which spring I drink?"

The girl quirked her brow, "Are not elves suppposedly well read in the ways of the wood hearders? Surely you should know of the Ent draught and it's poisonous side-effects on your kind." He blinked, and looked to the spring, then at the girl, then at the spring, and then at the water he had drawn in his cup. Then back at the girl. Then back at the spring. Out-smarted by a human, how pathetic.

Despite his wounded pride, he supposed the girl _had _saved his life, and therefore should be thanked, but as he turned to do so, he found her gone. The elf hadn't even heard her footsteps as she left - quite an accomplishment on her part. He felt a strange pang and wished for a moment that he had asked for her name.

He shrugged and took one last look at the undrinkable water before mounting his stallion and chasing after the twins once more. By the time he found them, hours later, caught in a spiderweb, the last thought of the Rohirric girl had left his mind.

* * *

The second time they met, she was in a sky blue gown of soft silk, and her skin glowed in the moonlight shining through the window. Her hair was secured not with a leather strap as it had been on their first meeting, but silver pins with jewels at the tip. Her once bare feet were now clad in soft blue slippers and the berries in this equation came in the form of a sweet dessert which sat half-eaten on her plate. She looked entirely uncomfortable in her formal attire, pulling at the hems of her sleeves and shifting stifly from foot to foot. She glared at her slippers as though they were the cause of all her problems.

It had been a year since Thandruil nearly drank the Ent draught, and the memory, trivial as it was in the scope of his long life, would likely have never been touched again had he not arrived to the ball in Rohan and seen her sitting there, lovely as any elven queen. To be honest, Thandruil had been more than a little relucatant to come the wedding of Prince Theorin of Rohan. Human cooks were rarely any good, and the whole lot of them were dull and stupid. But after a long talk with - lecture from - his Father about treaties and family image, he'd had no choice but to oblige.

However now, as he saw her eyes widen at the sight of him and her mouth form an "O" of surprise, he thought he might just enjoy himself after all. He had gathered from their first encounter that she was stubborn and irritable, and it would be great fun to make her flush red with anger again.

"Hello Sir."

Thandruil snapped to attention, and looked to his right to see the woman of his thoughts standing casually beside him. His heart fluttered and his stomach twisted. Thandruil frowned, what was this? It was not ire or irritation which was what humans usually provoked of him, but something warmer. Warm enough to bring heat to his cheeks.

She frowned, "Are you ill, my lord? Your cheeks are flushed."

The princling blinked and quickly repressed the blush on his face. "Nay my lady, not until I saw you here." Her brows furrowed and her eyes filled with anger, but rather than give him the pleasure he thought it would, he felt sorry for offending her. His next words came quite without thought, "Forgive me, my tongue is not as skilled as my blade."

It was obvious that she wasn't completely appeased, and her next words were terse. "That would imply that your blade is skilled my lord, and what proof have I of that?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "You doubt my abilities?"

She smirked, "Aye, I do, however I'm more than willing to give you the opportunity to prove yourself." She spun on her heel and strode gracefully away from him. Thandruil, unable to resist his curiosity, followed her.

She led him outside the palace, around the stables, and into the armory where she instructed him to select a sword while she did the same. Once they had both selected a weapon, she led him to the adjoining training room which she presented with a dramatic sweep of her arm. "Behold," she declared ceremoniously, "Your chance to prove yourself."

Thandruil nearly laughed. "You wish me to fight a maiden? Surely you jest."

Her eyes darkened, "What makes you say so, do you fear a loss?"

He had planned to walk away and leave her pride intact, but the idea that she would think him cowardly was enough motivation for him to accept the challenge. The two strode to opposite sides of the outlined training square and assumed their positions. Thus, the duel began.

It was a challenge, more so than Thandruil could have ever hoped, and he revelled in it. Her movements were graceful, fluid, and she was quick as a snake. They danced around each other, each parrying and striking with equal conviction. On they fought, a duel that had it been seen on a battlefield, would have been sung of for years. Eventually, his strength and skill proved superior, but only after over an hour of rigorous sword play.

Her skin glowed pink with excursion, her hair framed her face in tangled disarray. She was dripping with sweat, and her limbs shook from exhaustion. Thandruil knew that, if ever there were women who were meant to fight, she was such a woman.

"My lady," he began, himself out of breath. "What is your name?"

"Eowyn," she panted, pulling her sweat-soaked locks from her brow. "I am Princess Eowyn of Rohan."

* * *

_For clarifiication, the Eowyn in this story isn't the Eowyn that we know and love from the Lord of the Rings, but rather her ancestor. _

_XOXO_

_FairieQueen3_


	2. Chapter 2

Their friendship was a strange one, and many - both Elf and Man alike - did not quite understand it. The Rohirrim were hopelessly confused, and they elves of Greenwood thought their prince to be entirely to dependent on the girl. Perhaps with good reason, for it seemed the two were rarely apart.

The two would use any excuse for visits. When an ambassador was needed from Rohan for Greenwood, Eowyn was the first volunteer. Likewise, when Greenwood had matters to attend to in Rohan, Thranduil was sent without question. The two were seen together more often than was explicable, talking, riding, or, on occasion - when the Lord Elrond was in Greenwood, or they two were in Imladris - looking after Elrond's brood; Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir.

If it had been up to the elven princling, they never would have set foot in Rivindell for fear of being forced to babysit, but after the Rohirric princess met the three children for first time at her sister's birthday gala, Thranduil had little choice. Eowyn adored them and they worshipped the ground she walked on. Thandruil would have to fight for hours to convince the twins to sleep, whereas Eowyn need only send them an imploring look and off they'd go. Thranduil was a little jealous, actually.

Of course, there were lengths of time when there was no political reason for a liason between the Rohirrim and the elves of Greenwood. These spells could last for many months, and, during these times, the two would communicate through letters:

_Eowyn,_

_Considering that you are most likely broken hearted by my indisposal, I hope you can make do with my letters. I would hate to see you deprived, dear lady. __Are you well? I mean that both physically and emotionally, I know what my absence does to you._

_xxx_

_Thandruil,_

_You're a hopeless snob. How do you live with yourself? I am _quite _well thank you, enjoying the solitude while it is mine to have. Doubtlessly you'll come crawling back to me on your hands and knees as soon as possible - you know you can't handle the twins without me._

_xxx_

_Eowyn,_

_With many mirrors, many servants, and many letters from you - which I am short on at the moment. Honestly Eowyn, only one in the course of three months? I'm wounded. Hmmph, I'll have you know that I handled the twins quite well before you intruded upon my life, thank you, auta miqula orqu._

_xxx_

_Thandruil,_

_Don't make me kill you, it would cause so much unnecessary strain between our kingdoms. Oh don't bother, I know you're disguising yourself as the paige boy. You're bringing the letters yourself, silly goose. Of course, as evidenced by your preocuppation during our first meeting. _Language _mellonamin, my ears are pure._

_xxx_

_Eowyn,_

_I am guilty as charged, and I _knew _I shouldn't have told you about that._

_PS: I do believe you mean your eyes are pure, which is also quite laughable. _

_xxx_

_Thranduil,_

_Dolle naa lost._

_xxx_

_Eowyn,_

_Insulting me in Sindarin now my lady? I have taught you well. _

_xxx_

Once_,_ when Rohan and Gondor were again at war, and travel between the kindoms of elves and men was too treaturous to brave, the pair was separated for the duration of four-year war. When Thandruil saw her again, her face pale and weary from the horror of the death of so many Rohirric men and tragically thin from stress, he crushed her to him as though she was the most precious thing in the world. He looked at her blood-shot eyes and frowned, "You have been ill, Arwenamin."

She shook her head, stubborn to the last. "Nay, though poor sleep makes it appear so. The weight of the kingdom was a heavy burden." With the Prince and King at war, there had been no choice but to leave Rohan in the hands of the eldest daughter of the house, Eowyn. Thandruil gave her a skeptical look. "Truly," she insisted, "I'm fine...Perfect now that you are here, my friend."

In that moment, everything he had refused to believe he had felt for her, the weight of every tender word she had said came crashing down upon him. That was the moment he realized he was in love with her.

* * *

He didn't tell her of course, how could he? Eowyn entrusted him with her friendship and he had betrayed that trust. What would she say if she knew that he would get up and pace the cold halls of the palace on the nights she came to him, quaking from a nightmare, to keep from holding her? If she knew that he had nearly killed the young Lord of Gondor who had come to seek her hand out of jealousy, what would she feel? Revulsion, for sure. Thus a year passed in which he hid his love for her behind the facade of frienldy affection and brotherly devotion.

Hardly anyone was fooled, of course; nearly the entire court of Rohan noticed. Thandruil could do very little to stop the gossip from reaching Eowyn's ears. She however, would laugh and gesture to him saying, "Us? Lovers? You are very mistaken." He pretended that it was not both a blessing and a curse when she said that. And so, they behaved as they always had, and turned a blind eye to the whispers of the nobility.

The elven court, however, was not so gentle. While the humans gossiped and swooned over the supposed affair, Greenwood sneered and rebuked him for committing the sin of loving a mortal. "Disgraceful," King Oropher would grumble none-too-softly when his son would send longing looks after her. "Absolutely disgraceful."

Thranduil never meant for it to come out as it did - or at all. But alas, all races have little power over such things.

* * *

"My father fears that I am to be an Old Maid."

They had been laying on a green hill near the woods, discussing their favorite foods and debating superiority of strawberries to bluberries when she made her announcement. It was so unexpected, that Thandruil almost choked.

He quickly recovered and asked, "What makes you say so?"

She scoffed, "He told me himself, when my sister announced her engagement last night. He said to her, 'At least one daughter of mine shall wed. Your sister seems determined to stay away from the thing. If that is her conviction, she has done a wonderful job.'" Eowyn trailed off. It was obvious that there was more to say, but she kept her mouth stubbornly shut. Others would have abandoned the topic immediately, but Thandruil was just as obstinate as she, and so pressed for more.

"You are in your prime," he said, "A mere twenty-four years. What a shame it would be for you to marry so young."

Eowyn turned to him and quirked her brow, much as she had for their first meeting those ten years ago. "For an elf perhaps, but keep in mind that my people marry at sixteen or seventeen years. Few would wish for my hand now, if any."

Thandruil was equally angered by the idea of Eowyn wed to another, and taken aback by the sorrow in her voice. He'd never imagined Eowyn to be one to submit to marriage, to give up her freedom in exchange for a husband and children. It was one of the many reasons why he had kept his own feelings hidden, sure of rejection. He assumed she would not _want _to be chained by marriage, and her told her as much.

"Assume nothing," she scolded. "To be chained by marriage? Nay, I wouldn't stand for it. But for a partner and an equal, for the mutual giving of our hearts...I would abandon everything. To have someone love me in that way..." Her voice shook, and Thandruil reached out to wipe the lone tear from her cheek. She smiled at him in thanks before continuing, "But I suppose there must be those of us destined by the Valar to never feel such a thing. Perhaps I am too bull-headed for marriage. 'Tis a silly thing to hope for."

The way in which she refferred to herself - so cold, so depreceating - made Thandruil both despair and rage. How dare she think of herself this way? How dare he let her?

"I love you that way."

She had gone back to staring at the sky and her neck gave an audible crack as she whipped her head to stare at him. Her eyes, darkened now to a royal blue from the cornflower of her youth, were wide as saucers, and her mouth hung open in shock. It was a whole agonizing minute before she regained her senses enough to mumble, "I don't understand? We...You and I-... We are _n__ot like that. _We have never been. How then can you say that you love me? For how long?" She had sat up in the course of her small rant and was now staring down at him, who still lay on his back, with unshed tears of confusion in her eyes.

Thandruil felt like hitting himself, and swallowed thickly before answering her. "One year."

Eowyn scrunched up her eyes, unable to process this information. "A year, Thandruil. A year in which you let me play the ignorant fool while the whole of my father's house knew and threw their knowledge in my face. And for what, your own pride?" Her voice grew louder and her anger burned red in her cheeks. "Shame! Shame on you for letting me feel as though my love was unrequited. Shame for letting the idea of myself in an empty life fester in my mind. You fool! You coward! Shame!"

Time stopped, and reality fell away as he replied her declaration again and again in his mind, _'She loves me? She loves me. She; loves; me.'_

Thandruil stood abruptly, pulling Eowyn up by her forearms. The two stared at each other, daring the other to speak. Thandruil broke the silence, "I am guilty of cowardice, and I am guilty of foolishness, for never voicing my love for you." Eowyn allowed her tears to fall and brushed them away with the pads of his thumb, cupping her face in his hands. "And shame...That is also upon my head. For never having noticed your love for me, and for not having the courage to do before what I do now."

He moved one hand to her neck and the other to her waist. Her breath caught and for a moment, fear reared it's head, but he swallowed it. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and kissed her. She stood against him, frozen, and his heart sank. Just as he pulled away, she melted to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with a deep, burning fire.

It was everything he had wished for, everything he wanted, and if for a moment he felt the weight of his fore-seeing friend in his mind, he ignored it. If he remembered the memory he had so long suppressed, of a vision Elrond would have night after night as a child, that would leave him screaming and gasping for breath, he forgot it. If he saw the young peredhel in his mind's eye, running to his rooms and telling him, "...beware your heart, and beware the maiden with the golden hair. She will be your downfall, you must remember this. Don't love her Than, I beg of you!"...Then it was blotted out as he held her in his arms. The maiden with the golden hair.

* * *

_Auta miqula orqu - Go kiss an orc_

_Mellonamin - My friend_

_Dolle naa lost - Your head is full of air_

_xxx_

_Please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter :-)._

_xoxo_

_FairieQueen3 _


	3. Chapter 3

Of all the great love stories that have ever been told, that of Prince Thandruil of Greenwood and Princess Eowyn of Rohan was the greatest. Thandruil - cold, selfish, and immovably stubborn - became putty from a single look from his lady. Eowyn, so head-strong, so furiously adament against being ruled by a man, would do whatever he asked. With him, she was the epitome of femininity.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to lie.

Were they devoted? Surely, more so than any other pair could hope to be. In love? Very much so. Did they fight each other as though they were trolls on a rampage? _Oh yes. _Just as they always had.

Thandruil remained his haughty, vain self, and Eowyn kept her ideals of equality in front of her at all times. When their opinions clashed, their fury could be heard for miles around. Normally, the both of them would stalk off to opposite sides of wherever they were at the time facing away from each other and refusing to speak. Like children throwing a tantrum. Eventually, they'd come to their senses and laugh at their own foolishness, forgetting what they had argued over in the first place. Only once had their anger lasted more than a day, and that had been over a serious matter indeed. One which neither was likely to ever forget...

xxx

_"We must tell them!" Eowyn cried, ready to pull her hair out over Thandruil's obstinance._

_He glared at the ground and gritted and his teeth in an attempt to keep from shouting. He failed. __"Why," he demanded. "To give the vultures more food to feast upon? My father would sooner kill me and wear my skin as a robe than allow us to wed in peace."_

_"Let King Oropher care for himself," she retorted, intent upon winning this fight. She had to, for them, for the hope of a future together. "I_ _love_ _you Thandruil...Please don't deny me this."_

_"I have no choice!"_

_"Of course you do! You could choose me, you choose us. Why can you not see that?"_

_For ten months now they had kissed in shadows and whispered sweet nothings under the disguise of loud music at balls. They held their rendezvous behind stables and in the safety of the dense wood and in the peace of open meadows where no others ventured. They had relished in the secrecy, in their ability to discover this new addition to their lives without the threat of court gossip. But secrecy only held so much charm before the excitement turned into exhaustion from hiding behind lies. _

_When Thandruil had asked for her hand three months ago, she had been so overcome with joy she could only nod a "yes" as tears made paths down her cheeks. They had been married by Gandalf the Grey in the wood where they met not a week later, and Thandruil had promised on that day, "Today, I can offer you only this, but soon, I shall marry you for the world to see." That had been enough for her, the promise of a someday...but not now. She__ wanted __to be married in her father's house, with the presence of her people and Thandruil's. Not to be wed only in secret and break her family's heart in thinking that she had-_

_No, not even Thandruil knew about that. He couldn't know. They_ had _to be married before Elf and Man, soon, before it was too late to hide it._

_"The longer we wait to reveal ourselves, the worse it shall be for us later." When he did not respond, she was struck by a sickening thought. "Do you not wish for me to be known as your wife?" He remained silent. Her pride reared it's head as her anger grew. _

_"Would you have us appear and old maid and bachelor before others and married only in secret," she asked. "A shame to our houses, to our families, for the rest of our lives?"_

_There was a loaded silence then, as the princess waited for her lover's - her husband's - response. _

_Then, finally, "The rest of _your _life." His voice was dark, as she had never heard it before. It scared her. _

_"It may not seem so now that you are young and brave, Eowyn," he continued, taking no notice of the sudden palour of his wife's__ skin, "But someday, you will die. Your soul will be taken to Paradise and your body will be left to rot in the dark catacombs of your ancestors. But I, melon nin, will live on until eternity. An eternity of knowing that love such as this exists and that I shall never find it again." _

_Her expression relaxed from one of fury to understanding. "Do you fear loss," she asked, in a parody of when she had challenged him to a duel those years ago at her brother's wedding. __Another silence followed, but this time, Eowyn wished that the void had been left empty. _

_"We are wrong. This," he gestured vaguely between them, "Was a mistake. The most grievous mistake of my life."_

_She gasped, then sputtered, then stopped breathing all together. He couldn't mean that, he just couldn't. He regretted her? Regretted them? __'Nononononono...Oh sweet Eru no...'_

_"W-What?"_

_Thranduil sighed and looked her in the eye for the first time since the arguement had begun. Eowyn's blood froze in her veins and she felt as though she would never be warm again. _

_He saw the pain in her eyes, and it nearly killed him, but this had to be done. He could not give her what she wanted; a true marriage, a lifetime spent together, children... She deserved that. If it would take someone else to give it to her, so be it. _

_"I never should have confessed my feelings for you on that hill," a knife to his heart. "I never should have kissed you," a sickening crack. "I never should have wed you," another knife, that went deeper and tore through him. Now the last, and truly, the worst, "I never should have loved you." She struck him then, a solid blow across his cheek. He took it gracefully, he knew he deserved far worse. _

_As she fled the room, face white with shock and eyes red with grief, his broken heart tore after her. But then, of course it would. It belonged to her, after all. _

* * *

_Please don't hurt me._

_XOXO_

_FairieQueen3_


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